


An Old Letter

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [43]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 22:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18837931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: Madara finds an old love letter shoved into a pocket





	An Old Letter

“Would you just give me a damned minute?” Madara slid their bedroom door open, ignoring Hashirama’s excited yammering while he searched for a coat. Sometime after the third nibling the excitement had worn off for him, making it more a chore than anything else to have to drive so far out to the hospital.

Of course, it didn’t really help that it was the white bastard’s kid this time. Madara’s nose wrinkled a bit at the thought, his eyes flickering back and forth searching their closet.

“Dara, he said it could be any minute!”

“Goddammit, do you  _want_  me to freeze my ass off?” Since apparently all of his coats were missing in action, probably due to Hashirama’s idiotic habit of rearranging damned near everything in their house ever other week, Madara just blindly grabbed one of Hashirama’s to throw on. Out of habit he shoved his hands in the pockets as he left the bedroom, hoping to find some gloves stashed away in there.

His fist clenched around some paper instead, one brow raising in question as an anxious-dancing Hashirama came into view.

“Thought I told you to stop shoving cash into your pockets, idiot.”

Madara would never admit to finding Hashirama’s puffed out cheek even  _remotely_  cute. “I got out of that habit years ago, though...”

“Then how the hell do you explain...” When he pulled the yellowed paper out, all he could do was frown at it for a moment. Something about it was familiar but for the life of him Madara couldn’t place the paper’s significance. He carefully unfolded it, finding faded words bracketed in segments, having to squint to even recognize them as poems-

The second he remembered, the love letter was smooshed right back into the pocket, his face burning as he shoved passed Hashirama to the front door. “Stop dawdling. Baby coming, don’t wanna hear your whinging if you miss it.”

“But- wait, what am I supposed to be explaining?”

“ _Nothing_ , just, hurry up and get your damned shoes on!”

He didn’t have to look at Hashirama to see his droop, and hurried out to the car to avoid his sulking. But when he was settled into the passenger seat he glanced around the area, carefully reaching into his pocket to take a peek at the old love letter.

It was wrinkled all to hell, though that was mostly his own fault. Pressing it against his thigh helped. The words were faded and near intelligible, making him wish he’d thought to grab his reading glasses. When he’d written the poems all those years ago he hadn’t even  _needed_  them, and for whatever reason that thought made him chuckle as he ran a single finger lightly over his own composition.

Of course Hashirama would’ve kept them. He’d always been disgustingly sentimental. Madara carefully folded the poems back up, putting them away in his own jeans pocket for later - Hashirama was sentimental for sure, but he also had the worst memory in existence.  

It went without saying that Madara would be burning them. He had no plans of carefully tracing over each word, writing them in pen this time to prevent some of the fading. They wouldn’t be placed with care somewhere just this side of obvious, off kilter enough to look as if they’d been left by accident. And the next day, when Hashirama would come to him a blubbering mess over the old letter of poems, Madara would  _insist_  he had no memory of ever writing such romantic garbage.

But for now, they had a baby to go see into the world. And just because Hashirama was too distracted by that Madara placed a hand over his, listening without catching a single word while Hashirama yammered on and drove them to the hospital.


End file.
